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The Traitor Saga
"The Gods see us as tools, to be used and discarded... but they do not know that it is the sharpest tool that is the most dangerous, and what they don't know... can hurt them." -Will Marcus For untold thousands of years, the olympians have reigned over the collective body of mankind, using as tools their own children, to weed their perfect gardens. But Olympus is nearing a battle greater than anything she has ever known.... for her own shadow, will be her bane. The Camp Will opened his eyes to the sound of hard rock. He growled in anger and with instinctive reflexes, reached for his spear and threw it at the source of the disruption. There was a sharp sound and a shriek, and the blaring noise abruptly ceased. Will Marcus was a demigod, a son of Ares. He was seventeen years old, tall and muscular like most of his siblings, his red hair long and wild. His eyes were a cold, white blue, glimmering with menace. As he opened them and surveyed the ugly red room, none of his brothers and sisters met his gaze. He got up slowly, walked over to the laptop now impaled with his spear, and retrieved it. The spear had once belonged to Clarisse, the former Counselor, before she died on duty. Will did not like her, but respected her, and honored her by using her weapon so it may continue to sing tales of blood and gore, although he had had the electric enchantment removed. He considered such subtleties distasteful. Now, he levelled the dead Camper's weapon at his nineteen years old half sister, Joane Crumbs, a tall, wiry blonde with tattoos covering her scant covered body. "Damn it Will, get that stick outta my face!" She said in a southern accent, her voice tense despite her bold words. Will snarled like an animal, touching her throat with the spear point. "You give no orders around here, sister. And I have informed you, that do not play that horrendous mess you call music when I am resting. Now I have informed you twice, so there better not be a third time!" He growled, a faint British burr in his words. She nodded as best she could without impaling herself on the spear point, before Will nodded contentedly and pulled it away. "Now, come. We have to get to the dining hall before last place, for I don't fancy spending my time cleaning up the crap around camp." He led his cabin mates to the Ares table, where they were only few minutes ahead of the Hypnos cabin, which was almost embarresing, seeing the half asleep Hypnos kids. Chiron announced the soon coming Capture the Flag, to great applause, and then lead the usual toast to the Gods. And as everyone lined up to scrape portion of their food into the braziers, Will threw in a singular piece of apparently raw meat into the fire, smiling at his little victory. Soon, his time would come. Σπαρτιάτης (Spartan) 613 BC "Come, boy! 'tis time to leave yer mother's leg and stand forth as a man!" Bellowed the scarred man. The young child was unused to being yelled at, being a gentle soul at heart, and was unsure whether to run away or cry. He chose the later. "By Zues, shut that child up, give it milk if you must!" Yelled the man, grabbing his head in his hand and walking away. The child's mother glared daggers in the man's back, then turned an altogether gentler eye at the small boy. "Hush, my darling. It is hard, I know. But it is through hard things..." She looked at him expectantly. "That I become a hard man?" The boy sniffled. She smiled. "Aye. You will not be treated well, with me being who I am... a northerner... but you must work through it. Go, son, make me proud." That was all she said before she turned her back on the seven year old wee lad, and walked away. He watched her receeding figure, and felt more tears well up, but he pushed them back. "No. I will not cry. Never again." He swore. Behind him, the scarred man smiled. The child would make a fine warrior. ::: "Put yer back into it!" Growled the scarred Spartan. The boy had grown in the last five years. His height had increased, and his rough training had roped his arms with muscles. He stood now, ramming the heavy spear time and again into the wooden dummy, sweating under the sun, and the weight of the heavy broze armour and helm he was forced to labor under. One of his strokes went awry, and he ended up nearly falling over, to the amusment of his scarred instructor, Odius. The boy swore like a drunken sailor as he sought to regain his balance. "Come on, lad. Ye can do better than that, can't ya?" Yelled Odius, in a deppressingly good mood. "You know full well I can!" retorted the boy, once more attacking the dummy with gusto. "THEN SHOW ME!" He bellowed. Wincing at the unpleasant burns the hot ground had gifted his naked feet, he struck again, and again, at the object of his hatred. At the innocent wooden dummy. Half a minute later, the poor dummy was in shambles. "That's the spirit, lad. Go get yerself some water, and then drag yer sorry arse back here, ya hear?" Said Odius, nearly felling the boy with an enormous pat on the back. Swearing words that would make a man twice his age wince, the boy limped away, nursing his sore spear arm. Odius, he thought, one day, I'm going to tie you up and practice my weapons on you. Near the felled dummy, Odius picked up a solitary piece of wooden debris and raised an eyebrow. "Remarkable. The kid's got a whole lotta surprises hidden under that barbaric red haired head of his." ::: Modern Day The Ares cabin was asleep. One soul was awake, staring at the ceiling, a blade of light shining on his eyes, blue as sapphires, and his hair, red as flames. He had... an aura of sorts, a shadow that hung around his person, a shift in air that told the world that this soul is different, that this soul is more than it seems. "Never again." He whispered. And here he lays, till the first light of the sun, eyes open, face serene, staring at nothing yet everything. There is something poetic about that pale face, something dark and unique. It is the face of a boy who has seen too much. It is the face of a warrior who is dead on his feet. It is the face of someone who knows a little too less, a little too much. It is the serene, patient face of a soul waiting to die. Tasting Blood "And it is time for capture the flag!" Announced Chiron, to a roar of approval from the campers. Will and the Ares cabin raided their personal armories for weapons. He kept the spear, and chose a round shield etched with red runes. He wore a bronze breasplate and black trousers bound with leather straps and bronze knee caps. The teams were Ares, Hepheastus and Apollo in red, with Ares cabin leading, while the rest of the cabins blue, with Athena cabin leading. Disdaining pleasantries, he ignored the speech about the rules and regulations, preffering to take the time to check his equipment. In the shiny surface of the shield, he noticed his own red-headed self looking back at him. Always an outcast for thy blood, boy. He shook it off, and wore his helmet, as the rest of the campers rushed for last minute preperations. And then, with the two teams, or armies, in position, the battle begun. Will pointed his spear at his half sister, Joane, and a burly Hepheastus camper. "With me." He said. He looked at the rest and chose a smart Apollo camper to look after matters along here. He and his allies dashed through the maze of wood and leaves, him and Joanne fast and deadly, the Hephaestus camper big and threatening. They fell into their first skirmish mere seconds later. Three campers, lead by who was no doubt an Athena girl, met them with weapons drawn. The Heaphaestus camper charged at her. As she readied herself, he suddenly took a sharp turn, instead taking out the one on her right. As her head snapped there, Will charged at her with his spear. The spartans had once devised a near perfect charge in their warriors. Charging forth with their large shields, an average spartan warrior could meet his opponent with the force of a small bus. Will did the same, and the massive force that he released from his tensed shoulders and ample muscles was enough to send the slight girl flying for nearly three metres. Given her small stature, she was probably knocked out cold; Will didn't believe in probably. He jumped, and with the same force delivered another shield slam, this one aided by gravity. He ignored the blood splatter on his shield. Without thinking, he suddenly ripped his spear to his right, where it bit into metal. The Athena camper's other companion was caught awkwardly, with enough time for Joanne to knock him out with a savage strike from the hilt of her short-sword. The Hephaestus Camper had made short work of his opponent and joined them as well. Will gestured at his ear and to the west. Listening, they could all hear the telltale signs of someone, or someones, sneaking up on them. The Hephaestus kid shrugged, asking what do- in response, the two Ares kids melted into the surrounding shrubbery. As the Hephaestus kid looked around, confused, a bunch of kids leapt out from the western bushes. As the burly camper fought them with all his strength, the two Ares kids used the distractions to get closer to their target. A target protected by nearly the entire Hermes cabin. Joanne hesitated, but Will strode in boldly, and the Hermes kids jumped in battle positions. "Phalanx." He said, in a no-nonsense voice, and the two ares kids joined spears and charged the horde of campers. Knocking the first few away, the next bunch put up a fight. But the ares kids stabbed through the gaps with their weapons, carving their way to the owl flag. "Cover me, sister!" Yelled Will as he made the dash for it. Joanne nodded and sprinted after him. The run lasted smooth for some time- until a bunch of Athena kids intercepted them, cutting Joanne away from Will. As Joanne fought to keep the Athena campers from reaching Will, he continued to run, sweat gathering on his brow. Suddenly, an Aphrodite girl appeared from somewhere. Before he could react, she was kissing him, forcing her luscious lips upon his. He could feel the lust take control over him. The love magic of Aphrodite was taking effect, and he could not help but wonder at the softness of her lips, her bright, colour-shifting eyes. He felt her carefully sculpted, wonderfully curved form against his, and how the perfect she felt, like creek water brushing past a stone.... Creek water brushing past a stone. "No, you cannot..." -Sobbing. "I must." -A sword being drawn. "But... I... I am your..." -Wracking sobs. "I'm sorry.... forgive me." -The air cut apart by a falling blade. "NO...!" -And the kiss was broken. The girl fell back, her lips covered in blood, her face horrified. He looked at the fallen girl before him, and gave her a bloody smile. She fainted. Five minutes later, he walked onto the red base, the opponent flag held high. Though people were too horrified to notice, considering he had nearly entirely bit through his tongue and blood was pouring out of his mouth, dribbling past his jaw. But what matters blood, when you have victory? Weapon Will Marcus could feel eyes on him. He could feel the curious stares of campers, and he guessed word had spread- that the demigod with the fiery red hair had nearly bitten his own tongue off for nothing else than a game. He was healed now, of course. There were good healers around camp. Will did not like this attention. But he supposed he had brought it upon himself, what with following that old rule of Odius: Any price is worth paying for victory. Any price. ::: "Go on, kid. Raise that spear, wouldja?" Will scowled, but raised it. The past month had made him feel confident, if not comfortable, with the armor and heavy shield. He decided not to voice the thoughts, lest Odius finds a loophole for jest. "Now, what's gonna happen is this. Yer gonna go into that cave over there, y'hear? And then, yer going to kill whatever's inside." Will's scowl deepened. "What? You don't even know what's inside?" He demanded. Odius shrugged. "I have my suspicions." Will scoffed, and made his way over the wooden trunk bridging the chasm. He stepped carefully, but surely, and soon was across. He made his way to the cave, and stepped inside cautiously, hands slippery with sweat, and a knot of nervousness in his stomach. He was sent a-sailing by a crushing blow. Category:Index Page Category:Giantgnat Category:PG-Rated Story